


Stolen Kiss

by blanchtt



Series: Minific Prompts [3]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-08 22:58:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7777000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blanchtt/pseuds/blanchtt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cosima’s just starting to get used to this kiss thing, okay?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stolen Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Cophine + L (A stolen kiss)

 

 

 

There are usually a few choice vocab words she’s prone to overusing.  _Like. Totally. Obvs. Oops._  Sometimes, certain phrases start to become a refrain, too.  _My bad. Holy watershed. Stop it, Sarah. Seriously, stop it!_

Today might warrant something a little stronger. 

_I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up!_

Cosima’s just starting to get used to this kiss thing, okay? Mrs. Cormier did that little  _biz_  thing at the airport and, although she’s a very nice lady, that was awkward enough already. You’re just not supposed to be in that close contact with someone’s face unless you’re, like, married. And now they’ve made it home and her host mom’s calling up the stairs, and Cosima stands in the hallway as Mrs. Cormier brushes by her, explains that Mr. Cormier will be back from work at eight and that Delphine will be right down, and that if she needs anything she’ll be getting dinner ready. 

Because the idea’s cute, yeah, but it’s totally not her fault that no one ever really explained the rules, and that Delphine walks down the stairs, tall and gorgeous and smiling at her, cute enough to render her speechless. An impossibility, Sarah would have joked, yet it’s just happened. 

Once she’d figured out who her host family was, Cosima had sent a couple of emails to her host mom, getting to know the Cormiers and smoothing out the little details of her stay. But Delphine was the one who asked for her address and then sent her letters, in loopy cursive and shaky English that Cosima tried to answer in probably equally shaky French. 

She was definitely fucked as soon as Mrs. Cormier started banging pots and pans in the kitchen, clearly thoroughly occupied, and left them together standing in the hallway once Delphine came down the stairs, because somehow over something like nine thousand or so miles, give or take, she’s managed to develop just a little bit of a crush on Delphine. Through  _letters_ , no less. It’s just not her fault that Delphine is top of her class, speaks English like Marion Cotillard, and most of all is really super friendly. Like, to the point where there were a few times where Cosima couldn’t tell if she was… flirting?

“ _Cosima!_ Finally, it’s nice to meet you.”

And so Cosima knows she’s especially fucked when Delphine leans in towards her - and also down because, wow, does the other girl make her feel short - a hand resting lightly on her forearm to steady herself for a  _biz_.

_I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up!_

“I am soooo sorry,” Cosima stammers, stepping back, Delphine’s fingers slipping away. Like, seriously. What are the rules? Because she’s been here less than three hours and nothing in French class mentioned that some people didn’t stop at two, and so she totally expected two pecks on the cheek, not four, and jerked back after the second while Delphine went for a third. 

And now she’s pretty sure she just kissed her host family’s daughter. Not a full on kiss, but  _still_. Lips definitely touched. 

After a moment, Delphine leans back against the bannister, the hint of a smile playing at the corner of her mouth, and that plus the fact that she’s not currently putting as much distance as possible between herself and Cosima lets Cosima know that she can relax, at least a little. She shrugs off her heavy backpack that she realizes she’s still got on, slides it off her arm and deposits it on the floor, hoping for the best. Maybe Delphine just thinks she’s an idiot and not a total perv. An accidental one, but a perv none the less. It’s embarrassing, but she could settle for klutz-slash-Ugly-American status. 

“You don’t have  _le biz_  in California?” Delphine asks, and Cosima laughs, jamming her hands in the back pockets of her jeans to keep them from flailing in panic. 

“Nope.” They definitely do not, and she’s sure that if they did, she’d still be terrible at it because who doesn’t get nervous that close to pretty girls? Cosima shrugs, ineffectually, hands trapped in her pockets.  _Oh. Right._  ”Is it that obvious?“

“A little, yes,” Delphine teases, crossing her arms, and Cosima smiles back. This, she can deal with. Delphine smiling because of her - totes something she doesn’t mind. But before she can move the conversation along to something less humiliating, Delphine looks over her shoulder. They’re still alone in the hallway, Mrs. Cormier in the kitchen, and Cosima nearly jumps as Delphine pushes off the banister, leans in close toward her.

“ _Calme-toi, Cosima_.”

Has she died and gone to heaven? Probably. Why else would Delphine be kissing her? A real kiss, short and sweet, but still nothing like that fumble on her part. Cosima breathes out, feels Delphine’s thumb brush against her cheek, and only opens her eyes once Delphine’s pulled away, knowing full well she looks dazed and confused and is only able to blame some of that on the jet lag.

_Holy watershed. I didn’t fuck up!_

“Usually, when that happens,” Delphine explains, looking pleased with herself and leaning back against the banister, motioning with a hand in a way that Cosima understands to mean  _that biz you screwed up wonderfully_. “It’s very intentional and, well, cheeky?” 

“Oh.”

It’s the only full word she can think to blurt out at the impromptu culture lesson, because Cosima has died and gone to heaven and she does’t mind at all. In the silence that falls between them, Delphine motions with a nod of her head toward the kitchen, whispering -

“So we’re lucky Maman didn’t see, otherwise we wouldn’t be sharing the same room.“

“I …We’re  _what?!_ ”

 

 

 

 


End file.
